Opinion
JENNIFER CALFAS
EDITOR IN CHIEF
AARICA MARSH
and DEREK WOLFE
EDITORIAL PAGE EDITORS
LEV FACHER
MANAGING EDITOR
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
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The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Tuesday, December 1, 2015
As a likely pre-health student
in a science heavy major, I don’t
get a lot of choices when it comes
to academics. It’ll be helpful to
take these, says my adviser. You’ll
need to take these, say graduate
schools. Within courses is even
worse. Introductory science and
math courses essentially operate on
the pedagogical model of read this,
attend this lecture, do this problem
set, take this exam, rinse, repeat.
The only real choice is how many
hours of the day I want to spend with
my head buried rereading a chapter
or doing another problem set.
Hundreds of years of higher
education have told us this is how
it must be. College learning is
supposed to be all about guided
learning in how to teach ourselves.
We all learn in our own unique
ways, so it is up to us to figure out
how to absorb the material. Exams
exist to make sure we have learned
the material we are supposed to
have learned.
Common sense about how we
actually learn dictates otherwise.
As the old adage goes, you haven’t
learned until you have failed. But
the standard grading model of just
totaling up points received and
dividing it by points possible flies in
the face of this. If you actually fail
an assessment, there is no way to
demonstrate in your grade that you
have learned from your mistakes;
that mark of failure will always
have an enormous impact on that
final calculation. Sure, practice
exams and smaller assignments are
designed to simulate that learning
through failure, but they never
come with the same type of directed
feedback that accompanies an exam
or essay grade.
There’s a different way to think
about
learning
called
gameful
learning, and a project funded by
the University’s Third Century
Initiative, the Digital Education
Initiative, the School of Education
and the School of Information
seeks to harness it. It seeks to
expand the reach of gameful
learning,
a
pedagogical
model
built on the principles that grades
should be built from zero and not
a ratio, and that learning should
feature multiple paths to success,
not just a single list of homework
and exams. Gameful learning at
the University is built on top of
the learning management system
Gradecraft,
which
features
a
grade predictor that lets students
experiment with different options
for success, and constantly gives
them opportunities to reevaluate
their chosen method.
This semester, I am taking a course
that uses this model, Honors 240:
The Games We Play. It does happen
to have the added benefit of being a
class about games graded as a game,
but the gameful model certainly
shows its stripes. Its gameful model
empowers me to make choices about
how I want to learn the material and
lets me take risks that I might not
otherwise take.
For example, as part of the
course’s goal to apply the basic social
science concepts we’re learning
to real-world scenarios, I had the
option to do any combination of
developing my own empirical study
of an issue on campus, analyzing
one aspect of the Department of
Education’s College Scorecard data
or writing an essay trying to tie all
of the individual concepts together.
I decided to take a risk and spend a
majority of my time analyzing data,
and found some really interesting
results that I would have never had
seen if it was something I was forced
to do along with other objectives. I
also knew that even though I was
taking a risk by focusing so much of
my time on one project that could
potentially lead to uninteresting
results, or have it not be what my
professor wanted, I could always
try something new without risking
a serious grade deduction. I would
still have to work harder than if I
didn’t fail the other assignment,
but at least my grade might
not suffer.
This type of choice in my learning
was incredibly empowering. I felt
so much more ownership over
my work in the end because I felt
like I chose to go down this path,
and it wasn’t something someone
was forcing me to do just to jump
through
some
next
proverbial
hoop. While this model certainly
can’t work in every educational
circumstance, it is worth it for
professors to think about adjusting
the very model of their classrooms
if they want their students to think
the way the real world thinks.
Jeremy Kaplan is an
editorial board member.
Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Jeremy Kaplan, Ben Keller, Payton Luokkala,
Aarica Marsh, Anna Polumbo-Levy, Jason Rowland, Lauren Schandevel,
Melissa Scholke, Rebecca Tarnopol, Ashley Tjhung, Stephanie Trierweiler,
Mary Kate Winn, Derek Wolfe
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
W
hen I was in high school, the most
common Facebook cover pictures
I saw were poses with friends
or
random
aesthetic
succulents. Now, it seems,
pictures with parents and
siblings have dominated
my news feed. From my
experience, my peers and
I have been opting more
for #MimosasWithMom,
rather than the infamous
#foodporn
or
#nature.
Life at college, it seems, is
instilling in students value
and pride for their families
rather than despoiling it.
My freshman year, I think I thought pretty
much the opposite. Everybody on campus
seemed to be studying and working all the
time, barely having enough time to think of
their families at home at all, let alone call or
visit them. When students weren’t studying,
they were partying, which seemed like
the last thing someone who highly values
their parents would spend their expensive
university time doing. My second semester
freshman year, I spent exactly one night in
Bloomfield Hills. One night!
Granted, I spent my Spring Break in
Atlanta participating in Alternative Spring
Break, but the fact that I didn’t think about or
miss my family at home much at all supported
my idea that college was a time for students to
grow apart from their families.
However, this year, after noticing the
opposite trend, I caught on to reason why
I didn’t notice it my first two semesters
at Michigan: I didn’t have to go home to
Bloomfield Hills for a family recharge because
I had so much family already here with me. My
sister, two years older, was already a University
student when I came here — I didn’t have to
go home or call my parents to necessarily get
that family-values feeling. Every time I felt
stressed or needed to talk to family, I would
call or text her to meet up for a bit at Bert’s in
the UGLi.
For example, when I really needed someone
to be there for me in times of personal distress,
I didn’t have to go all the way home to see
someone who was unconditionally there for
me. Instead, I just had to walk five minutes to
meet up with my sister at a coffee shop. While
I imagined I was floating away from my
family life, I was, in fact, just developing it in
different, more adaptable ways. I didn’t have
to be living at home with my parents to know
that I had the support network I needed.
This
Thanksgiving
break,
some
high
school friends put together a reunion event of
sorts. The Facebook event was actually titled
“Re-onion 2: the onioning.” On the day of the
event, our friend who goes to Princeton posted:
“OK, I’m the worst, but I can’t make it. I’m
leaving tomorrow morning and I only have a
day left with my parents and (sibling name).
frown emoticon. I really suck because I had
the day changed for this event. Please leave
all hate messages below:”
At any point before this year, I almost
certainly would have actually left at least
some sort of passive remark in the comments
about how we changed the event date just for
her, and how I haven’t seen her in months
yada yada yada (I used to be — still am? — a
high-maintenance friend).
But this year, after almost three semesters
in college, I can totally understand where
she’s coming from. While at face value it may
seem that university students are drifting
away from their parents and siblings, they
are simply developing a more complex
relationship. I’m no longer just living at home,
in need of my parents’ and siblings’ constant
support. Instead, I know I have that support
even when I’m far away, and my family knows
the same from me. Therefore, when I do
actually go home and physically spend time
with them, that time is more precious than
ever, and I think many college students also
appreciate that added value.
So what does this mean for our home
life? Succinctly, home life has become a
precious, almost nostalgic time to take selfies
with Mom and genuinely enjoy being in the
presence of one’s family. I honestly feel like
I’ve become so much less of a brat than I was
in high school (but I really couldn’t have
been more of one, so that’s not saying much),
because being away at school forces me to
appreciate every minute.
School life away from home is now
a time when I’m physically separated
from my family, but feel the support (and
expectations!) more than ever. And if I’m
ever unsure about that, I can give them a call
anytime and know they’re willing to take an
hour out of their day just to talk.
I love going on Snapchat while on break.
During holiday time, rather than expecting
to feel FOMO when opening friends’ stories,
I can always look forward to cute sibling
pictures and posts of gratitude for parents.
Though at times University life is separating
us from these family moments, in actuality, it
only makes us value them even more.
— Liam Wiesenberger can be
reached at wiesliam@umich.edu.
Valuing family time
What is normal?
T
here
were
only
four
sentences on the sheet of
paper in front of us. My
classmates and I sat there stumped
for a moment, struggling to answer
a few questions.
Floating among
all
the
white
space
we
weren’t entirely
sure
how
to
fill
was
the
question “What
is normal?”
Tossing aside
my initial (and
mildly sarcastic)
reaction to ask
if
the
prompt
was a trick ques-
tion, we were able to jot down a few
phrases and a few words to com-
plete the exercise. This particular
question, though, resurfaced when
I traveled back home for Thanks-
giving break. Home had always
had its own definition of “normal”
— a respective series of expecta-
tions about how to act, what to do
and the “proper” order to perform
these actions. I — for 22 years — had
disagreed with the vast majority of
them. I didn’t tend to fit home’s def-
inition, and more often than not, I
wasn’t necessarily sure I wanted to.
Yet as I returned to a place where
I continually felt I was deviating
from the norm, my mind sudden-
ly became preoccupied with the
notion of normal. Given the ambi-
guity of what the next year — or
even the next few months — will
hold, a prescribed route with some
sort of direction to follow was an
attractive option. Normal promised
a degree of certainty and stability.
Normal would provide a measure of
where exactly I “should be.” How-
ever, as I began to worry whether
I was falling behind or making a
mistake, I began to really consider
what has actually constituted nor-
mal up to this point in my life.
Throughout the years, it was
normal for me to be highly aware
of my status as a woman, and if I
ever began to forget about this label
— and all of the limitations society
entwines into it — I was promptly
reminded. “Because you’re the girl”
was the customary response when-
ever I asked for any explanation
as to why my parents hesitated to
let me do certain things my broth-
ers were able to do without ques-
tion. With this phrase came the
acknowledgement that I needed to
follow special precautions in order
to obtain a certain degree of inde-
pendence my brothers and male
friends seemed to acquire easily.
Going to a party, walking back from
the library late at night, jogging in
a secluded area, spending a day in
a bigger city, going for a run in the
evening, going to a concert or driv-
ing across the state were endeavors
that filled those around me with
visible discomfort if I mentioned I
was going alone. These endeavors
typically required a great deal of
negotiation and reassurance before-
hand, and an even greater degree of
self-awareness and vigilance dur-
ing the time. Both then and now,
my friends and family display some
anxiety at the idea of me venturing
out alone in these scenarios. But it’s
still a fairly common phenomenon
for concerns about these excursions
to instantly evaporate whenever I
mention I’ll be in the company of
my male best friend.
Each time I open my laptop or
turn on a tele-
vision,
I’m
bombarded
by
what the media
portrays as nor-
mal.
Normal
is
constantly
questioning
and
critiqu-
ing
numerous
forms of media
because
I’m
tired of hearing my body compared
to some variety of amorphous
fruit, especially when the bushel
depicted in society still looks pretty
homogenous. Searching through
Photoshopped images on various
platforms for one with familiar
proportions is an all-too-common
activity — one that regrettably pro-
duces few results. And as I do this,
my friends struggle to find valid
representations of their race, sexu-
ality or disability in the media they
watch, listen to and read.
I’ve read innumerable articles
about “leaning in,” “having it all”
and alleviating the wage gap. In
my column, I’ve argued for initia-
tives to diminish gender inequality.
Despite all of this, I know any hur-
dles I encounter as I try to navigate
the professional world as an indi-
vidual from a lower socioeconomic
background will only be magnified
by my identity as a woman. Accept-
ing the norm involves the realiza-
tion that until things change, I’ll
most likely find myself smashed
up against a glass ceiling holding
onto about 77 cents where a dol-
lar should be. Normal is knowing
that dressing in more androgy-
nous clothing over the years is not
merely a style choice, but a poten-
tial strategy to avoid being classi-
fied and stereotyped by my gender
in the workplace.
One particular norm permeating
each of my days is the continuous
internal debate between saying too
little and saying too much. At points,
it’s simply holding my tongue dur-
ing a conversation when it takes a
turn toward the reasoning “that’s
just the way things are,” and when
a dissenting opinion will most likely
be dismissed as a “feminist rant.” It’s
swallowing my anger and frustration
when a passing car volleys catcalls
as I walk across an intersection on
my way to class. Conversely, a sort
of insecurity sets in the moments
when I feel like I haven’t contributed
enough to a conversation. It leaves
me wondering whether my silence
was perceived as shyness, a lack of
knowledge on the topic or just a cold,
judgmental persona. Then, in rare
moments
with
certain
people,
I begin to worry
I’ve monopolized
the conversation,
and an unneces-
sary apology fol-
lows. In fact, the
word “sorry” has
assumed a prom-
inent place in my
vocabulary, act-
ing as a preface to far too many ques-
tions and as an entrance to far too
many conversations.
While these instances and expe-
riences define the norms in my
life, normal is a subjective con-
cept, where some definitions are
undoubtedly far more privileged
than others. Normal, in my expe-
rience, has been presented as soci-
ety’s agreed-upon codes of what’s
acceptable.
Looking back at the question
from class, the idealist in me wants
to say normal doesn’t exist. As
much as I want to point out that the
concept is socially constructed, I
can’t deny that women are held up
to various definitions of what’s nor-
mal — very often ones we’re never
given a say in at all. In class, we
focused on two approaches one can
take in regard to normality. Either
you can embrace the notion of nor-
mal, or you can combat it. If these
norms and expectations are just a
few examples of what women can
expect if they embrace and accept
it, society seriously needs to defy
its own definition of “normal” and
start redefining.
— Melissa Scholke can be
reached at melikaye@umich.edu.
MELISSA
SCHOLKE
LIAM
WIESEN-
BERGER
Dear professors, think gameful
JEREMY KAPLAN | VIEWPOINT
Society needs to defy
its own definition of
“normal” and start
redefining it.
CONTRIBUTE TO THE CONVERSATION
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opinioneditors@michigandaily.com.
ANDREA CUAMATZI | VIEWPOINT
I was 16 when I left home to study abroad
for the first time. Right before I left for the
airport, my grandma said goodbye to me in
a way only she could do: Que la Virgencita
te cuide y te acompañe — May Our Lady of
Guadalupe be with you at all times. As a
farewell gift, she put a gold charm on my neck
with Our Lady of Guadalupe on one side and
my name on the other.
Until that moment, I had always taken
for granted the significance of Our Lady of
Guadalupe. I was born and raised as a Catholic
in Mexico, and Our Lady of Guadalupe has
not only been a symbol present in my family,
my church and my Catholic high school, but
also a historical figure used in war emblems,
constitutional seals and famous literature.
In the Mexican community, Dec. 12
represents a day of gathering and hope,
a moment of union and faith. Classes are
cancelled, Mom and Dad are off work, and
churches are opened. There will be family
gatherings full of tamales and hot chocolate.
The significance of Our Lady of Guadalupe
goes beyond religious celebrations; she is a
symbol of culture and tradition.
Why are Mexicans so devoted to this
figure? Our Lady of Guadalupe appeared as
an application to Juan Diego, a native Aztec,
in 1531 — a period of annihilation of the Aztec
Empire and of imposition of the Spanish
culture and religion. The Aztecs were known
as a devoted polytheistic community. It was
not until Our Lady of Guadalupe made her
apparitions that indigenous people started
accepting the Catholic faith as their own. She
appeared in a way Aztec people could identify
with. The color of her skin was neither white
nor indigenous; it was a blend of both. She
used Nahuatl, not Spanish, to communicate
with Juan Diego.
She is replete with symbolism. Her pink
robe, her blue stellated mantle, her name
“Guadalupe,”
her
facial
expressions
—
everything is full of meaning for the Aztec
community. Instead of imposing a new,
unfamiliar set of values and beliefs, she
acknowledges the richness of a culture,
blending the Catholic faith with Aztec beliefs.
The message of Our Lady of Guadalupe
is a message of love and protection. She
acknowledges those in the margins who don’t
seem to have a voice.
The image of Our Lady of Guadalupe
among the Mexican community in the United
States carries the same meaning it carried
500 years ago in the Spanish-Aztec context.
It reminds us of the value every human being
has beyond nationality, social class or racial
privileges, portraying that the reconciliation
of a heterogeneous and complex society is
possible. This message is just as important
today with our struggles with immigration as
it was in the time of Juan Diego. In that spirit of
inclusion, the Mexican community welcomes
everyone to join us in the celebration of Our
Lady of Guadalupe this Dec. 12 at 7 p.m. at
St. Mary Student Parish. The mass will be in
Spanish, and English guides will be available.
Directly following mass, all are invited to
celebrate with traditional Mexican food and
Mariachis.
Andrea Cuamatzi is an LSA senior.
Our Lady of Guadalupe